


Tether Me

by Lavish_Witchling



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Assassin's Creed: Valhalla - Fandom
Genre: Blowjobs, Bottom!Hytham, But should I do a part 2?, Eivor uses flyts for dirty talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hytham becomes a mentor, Hytham is very vocal, I am low-key implying that Hytham may or may not be related to Malik and Kadar, I mean there is a possibility, Not Beta Read, Not much smut to be honest, Oral Sex, Sigurd and Randvi lose sleep, Smut, Table Sex, There is also the possibility he could be related to Altair due to that one scene in the game, They are both terrible at trying to keep quiet, Top!Eivor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28008024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavish_Witchling/pseuds/Lavish_Witchling
Summary: Before his departure to Constantinople, Hytham and the Jarlskona of Ravensthorpe say their goodbyes, but those goodbyes are only what awaits the couple when they have reunited once again.
Relationships: Eivor/Hytham (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 79





	Tether Me

**Ravensthorpe**

**Hidden Ones Bureau**

**881 A.D.**

“What news, acolyte?” 

Hytham stood near the shelves of scrolls when his apprentice strolled in. A young man who traveled from Persia under Mentor Rayhan’s instructions to learn under Hytham’s guidance. Much similar to the older assassin’s apprenticeship to Basim in his early years. 

The acolyte, Navid, removed his hood to reveal a tired expression as he sat down on the bureau’s rugs. “Mentor Rayhan requests your assistance in Constantinople.” He paused to reach for the bowl of water Hytham handed him, nodding his thanks. “There is rumor of an Orb buried below the new church, Nea Ekklesia.”

“Another one?” Hytham recalled Eivor’s words many years ago after killing Gorm Kjotvesson; of how the one-eyed fool had a sphered artifact encased in gold. 

“Surprising, I know” the acolyte agreed, “he needs your help to secure its location before a member of the Order arrives.”

Not a problem, “anything else?” Hytham asked.

“He told me to give you this.” Navid then hands Hytham a letter; sealed from prying eyes with the wax embellishment of their brotherhood.

Hytham removes the seal and unfolds the parchment, reading in silence to the distant sound of children playing or people going about their daily lives. 

_Hytham,_

_Reflecting on all that you have done for our brotherhood has not gone unnoticed. Your work to restore balance in England has proved great dedication after long seven years. And in regards to the early part of those years, I thank you for acting as a temporary Rafiq after your injury with Kjotve the Cruel. Even the Jarlskona’s assassinations upon the Order has caught my eye and I still believe that Eivor of the Raven Clan would prove to be an exceptional asset to our brotherhood. I am also inclined to mention your time in the Holy Land that lowered the Order’s influence in the southwestern part of Syria. Admittedly that will take more effort in the years to come to establish a permanent stronghold, but the achievement of causing ruination on the Order by your hand has captured the attention of my fellow mentors and we all are in agreement that you shall be deemed as Mentor of the Mercian Brotherhood from the moment you read this._

_I look forward to your arrival in Constantinople, Mentor Hytham._

_Mentor Rayhan_

Hytham had to re-read the second to last sentence a few times, at least to process what was written.

_Mentor Hytham_

“The shock on your face says a lot, _Mentor_.” Navid jokes, pulling down his hood to hide the grin on his face.

“You knew?”

The only response Hytham receives is a shrug, “Mentor Rayhan said not to mention your title until you read the letter.” Then a yawn, “just following orders.”

“How thoughtful,” Hytham says simply, but deep down he cannot contain his happiness of being initiated as mentor. Even the smile said plenty to Navid when Hytham was already out the door.

“Go in peace, Mentor!” his apprentice adds, to which Hytham responds in return, jogging to the longhouse to tell Eivor the good news.

He’s close enough to see the jarlskona sitting at the entrance of the longhouse. Working on a new set of arrows near a torch with a good amount of light to prevent any mistakes from occurring. The firelight revealed Nali too, tucked away on Eivor’s lap to enjoy a nice nap.

The assassin crouched down in front of his vikingr, pressing a quick peck to her forehead. “Hello, habibti.”

Eivor hums as a reply, smiling, “I love it when you call me that, but hello to you too, my love.” 

“The feeling is mutual,” Hytham murmured, moving from his crouched position to sit beside Eivor. “I have news.”

Eivor looked up to him, her task abandoned for the time being. “What is it?” 

“I have been made Mentor of the Mercian Brotherhood.” He announces, “and I am to make haste for Constantinople as soon as I can.”

Pride was shining in Eivor’s eyes for her lover. “Hytham, that is amazing!” Ever since meeting the assassin, Eivor knew of his personal goal to become a mentor. “Look at us, an assassin and a drengr, now leaders of our own clans.” The brotherhood may not be a clan per se, but it was a nice comparison to go by.

Suddenly Eivor cleared her throat, took Nali off her lap, and stretched out her hand. “Let’s sneak into Tarben’s and Tekla’s for a few cakes and some mead. To celebrate!” She was craving those honeyed cakes anyway. Tarben only bakes them for Samhain and she overheard a couple of the children say he had a few batches left over from the celebration. 

Hytham took her hand, “how can I say no to that?” He beamed. 

The couple returned to the longhouse, their mission a success. It reminded Hytham of a time when he and his siblings would sneak into the batch of halva their mother would make. A pleasant memory.

“When do you plan on sailing to Constantinople?” Eivor asked, lounging on the jarl chair.

Hytham finished the remnants of mead from their shared horn and thought in silent contemplation. “I plan on leaving at first light, but…” He begins to saunter towards the jarlskona and quietly inquires, “would you like a proper goodbye before I go? A night to remember _each other_ by?” 

Eivor’s face softened. “Hm. Being bold aren’t we, Hytham?” The way his pupils blew with lust said enough. 

Very bold to tempt the Wolf of Mercia apparently, maybe even bolder to tempt her further.

“Tell me, Wolf-Kissed.” Eivor’s breath hitched as Hytham brought his legs to wrap around her waist. _Oh, Freyja he’s doing this on the jarl chair?_

“How quiet can you be?” The assassin is known for his kind soul, but in their chambers, he is a bastard when he wants to be; especially now with his teasing. However, she did not protest when Hytham’s lips gently nipped her earlobe. Lust blowing her own pupils.

Those lips traveled lower, lower until his warm breath hovered over Eivor’s neck, close enough to place his mark.

Instead of doing what Eivor expected, he said. “You still haven’t answered my question.” 

“Yeah, sure… I can be quiet.” Her voice was lazy, relaxed. A voice reserved for Hytham and Hytham only. “Just keep doing whatever it was you were doing…” Eivor tightened her hold on his robes, settling into her chair. “Continue, assassin.”

Hytham caressed her shoulders, head lowering once again to graze his lips over the same neck he’s bruised and kissed so many times. Teeth pulling the skin with light tugs, causing Eivor to grasp his shoulder blades and sink deeper into the seat. Obviously trying to hold in her groan. 

“Should we take this to our chambers?” he teases, knowing the effect his mannerisms had on her and how her legs would feel like liquid if she were to stand. “Or should we stay for all to see?”

Flustered and with the height of arousal coursing through her veins, Eivor stands. Pleased to hear the yelp that escapes Hytham’s mouth as she lifted him by the thighs.

“The table, then our chambers.” 

Before Hytham could say anything he was laid back on the nearest feast table with a light _oof_ ; face flushed to see Eivor pin him with little to no effort.

“You know…” she presses a kiss to his jawline, “let’s see if _you_ can stay quiet, _Mentor_.”

He smirked at the emphasis, “I’m sure I can manage.” 

Eivor’s eyes shifted to predatory focus as she grinned in wicked delight, his jarlskona. Wild, captivating, a sight to behold. His heart thundered to realize those eyes hungered for _him_.

Both do not look away when Eivor rests her body atop of his, pulsating her hips against his hardening member, holding his hands by the wrists so he wouldn’t move. Hytham moaned at how tight his trousers felt. At how his whole body felt like fire. Breathing in deeply when desire flooded his senses because _by God_ he did not want her to stop.

Eivor undid his clothes, but Hytham noticed she left the lower part of his attire on. Her fingers inches away from the laces.

“I’m often told…” one lace was pulled, “that I’m as good with my lips…” another lace “as I am with my tongue.” Eivor lets her tongue slid across his abdomen, leaving a wet trail that sent Hytham arching his back. He felt dizzy trying to speak.

“Is… _fuck_ … is that another line from… from your flyts?” 

The vikingr was silent for too long. “No.”

“Liar.”

Eivor rolled her eyes, “it was too good of a line _not_ to use!” 

Without giving Hytham a chance to reply, Eivor pulled the last lace with her teeth, finally allowing him to be rid of that infernal attire, the material lowered just enough to rest on his thighs. 

Hytham swallowed thickly when Eivor grasped his erection, gasping to feel her lips devour the feeling that long-awaited to be released. “ _Eivor..._ ” Fuck his self-control. Let everyone know that he is the jarlskona’s lover.

Such a sensual gesture between them, such vigorous activity when Eivor devoured the squirming assassin who sings her name. The echo of his praises resonating throughout the longhouse with each stroke of her mouth on his length. She stopped to stare at the man, wiping the essence of his cum that dripped from her chin. “What are you, Hytham?”

The sight before Eivor was incredible. 

Hytham laid sprawled on the table, a beautiful being whose body gleamed with sweat, panting to regain all consciousness. “Yours.” He reached to cup Eivor’s face, “I’m yours.” The Wolf of Mercia was unable to no longer resist. She allowed Hytham the honors of removing her everyday clothing until she was left in her undergarments. He was slow. Perhaps still lost in the trance of getting sucked. Every time they did this was a treat for both of them and every time Hytham was left drained, Eivor was left smug.

Just how they liked it. 

The cruel bite of the cold kissed her skin, reminding Eivor that they were awfully close to the side entrance for anyone to interrupt them. She shrugged. Anyone who had enough sense wouldn’t dare intrude on the jarlskona fucking her lover. Though she did pity Randvi who slept on the upper floor and Sigurd who slept near the map room. The two possibly wide awake due to Hytham.

She glanced down at the assassin, “let’s finish here and then head to our chambers, shall we?” 

“We have the whole night, habibti,” Hytham whispered, tracing the scar on her abdomen with delicate care. “We can stay on the table for as long as we _both_ want.”

Eivor hummed in thought. “I didn’t think you would enjoy this so much. Taking you on a table has been… uh…” _Gods I’m going to sound ridiculous when I say this._ “Has been a fantasy of mine… for a long time.” 

“Do not fret, being out in the open like this, vulnerable for all to see… it’s different!” He then adds “a good different!”

Eivor smiles, genuine with relief. “I’m glad you feel that way,” then her eyes darkened, “we should continue, my love.”

_Lord above..._ Hytham would never tire of the way her expression would transcend into a desire as intoxicating as her smile. 

Their bodies are closer than ever, and Eivor struggles in earnest to take off her undergarments and cast them aside with the rest of their clothes. Her hips rolling in a heat of passion onto Hytham’s length, slow enough for the couple to enjoy minute after minute. Unaware that her climax was about to burst through the cacophony of their shared exhales. 

“Hytham…” Breathless, drenched in sweat, thriving wave after wave of pleasure, Eivor engulfs the assassin’s lips. “Ah.. _Hytham_ ...” the way his hips jerked into her clit was absolutely enticing. “Don… _shit!_ Don’t st…” their lips continued to move in ecstasy; parting only for air to fill their lungs or to say each other’s names in a whispered prayer. 

Towards the end of her orgasm, Eivor’s body convulsed as she pulled from Hytham’s member, collapsing over his body to rest her forehead on his bicep out of exhaustion. Her eyelids were too heavy to keep open since the beat of Hytham’s heart was a lullaby to her ears. 

Hytham hugged Eivor close to him, “I would love to stay here with you all night.”

“I agree, but I believe both of us would despise sleeping on a table.”

Hearing the low chuckle from her love awoke something deep in Eivor’s chest, not a want, but a need. 

Eivor always found Hytham to be a comforting presence, even his smile, his compliments. Everything about Hytham was comforting. It reminded her of a day that continually lingers from time to time when her bed is cold. Empty without his presence.

A day when he took her hands to warm them. Bringing solace into her darkening soul and on that _same_ day, he took her in his embrace; making the vikingr realize she could be consoled during her darkest hours. 

“I’m going to miss you.”

“As will I.” Hytham admits, “without your presence I am deprived of peace.”

“But we always return to each other. Whether it’s me that leaves or you.” Eivor reminds him, sitting up. “Let’s gather our clothes. I would like to have one more night with you in our bed before you depart.” 

“And who am I to deny such a request…” Hytham purred, giving a light kiss to Eivor’s lips. 

To others, the kiss may seem simple, but within the simplicity of that kiss held the promise of a safe return. An unspoken promise between a mentor and his jarlskona.

**Author's Note:**

> Song for Fanfic: Tether Me by Galleaux
> 
> Should I do a part 2 for when they reunite?
> 
> Also, I had a lot of fun writing this! It was my first smut fanfic (even tho there is not that much) but it was nice to write something kind of different out of my comfort zone! Plus if anyone doesn't know what halva is it is a dessert that originates in the Middle East. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed!


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